


Catch If I Fall

by aesterismo



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte
Genre: Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesterismo/pseuds/aesterismo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mihashi Ren falls in love the same way he does everything else: in careful, tepid, nervous steps.  How he goes from wading in the waters to diving in head-first is anyone's guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch If I Fall

The world isn't always fair.

It's a philosophy to live by, a meaningful adage.  Variations of it exist everywhere: when life gets tough, the tough get tougher; adversity can mold a person from clay to stone; no pain, no gain. 

As infants grow into toddlers, toddlers into children, children into adolescents, teens into adults, the indistinct lines grow blurrier all the same.  Nebulous waters and cloudy skies yield no right answers.

Then again, who's to say what's right?  What deems something "right" versus "wrong"? 

People - a fickle, evolving, insecure race.  They can twist words, muddle gentleness with relative ease, negativity arising in those who fear and crave.  They can tug at an unraveling thread in a patchwork of emotion, chisel away at hardened defenses, revealing the vulnerable core beneath.

Certainly, a person who rules over the life of another must think themselves higher than any overseeing entity, any deity out there, who sees all of humankind from a higher plane.

The world is unfair, but people can be so much more unfair. 

(Selfish too, Ren knows - gladly includes himself in the tally.)

 

* * *

 

When Ren was a child, he loved the way the sky looked just before sunset.

Something about the vermillion undertones and the dusk violet-gold bands fascinated him.  Allures and eludes him even now, just a bit older and just a touch shy of wiser.  Why it fills him with such wonder, Ren cannot say. 

What the sunset makes him think of these days - well, that depends.

If it's springtime, the sunset reminds him of backlots, of the yard space left open around Gishigishi Apartments, of the mild breeze kicks up grass blades and dust while he plays with Hama-chan and his friends, of chasing after broad backs and choral laughter and the waking dream which persists long after temporary _goodbye_ s.

If it's summertime, the sunset reminds him of the Mihoshi field at night, of fireflies and desperation making him ache from the inside out, of callous words and forming blisters and silly thoughts like little mantras, promises to himself that things will get better, things will always get better, until _eventually_ forgets to remember.

If it's autumn, the sunset reminds him of the brief flashes of light peeking between his outstretched palms, of a murmur to the clear heavens above, of a single wish to whoever out there could hear him, of _please let tomorrow go well_ echoing in his conscience until it turns into _please let my new teammates like me._

If it's winter, the sunset reminds him of oil on water, of contrasts and duality in nature which reflect the human heart, and all the ways in which he longs to reach out and change the scenery back then, the same way he longs to change himself.

A boy with knobbly knees, wild aureate strands hanging over his brow, and never without a baseball in hand.  Much like now, he thinks, as he wasn't any less eccentric then.

(Someone who forgives others, Ren thinks, cannot forget so easily.)

 

* * *

 

Except the day that Ren gathers up the dredges of his courage - shuffling past the dugout on his new school's fenced-in field area, waving his arms about wildly when the strongest woman he's ever known aside from his mom drags him to join the others, all because the single word uttered that changes everything: _pitcher_ \- he starts to forget.

Except the moment he picks himself up off his knees - tears, entreaties, and complexes forgotten for a single startled split second, an brief instant, when the team he wants to belong to doesn't walk away - he starts to remember what he started playing baseball _for_.

Except for all his lingering complexes, for all his shortcomings and weakness - for all that he knows he cannot be, much as he tries, and would sooner lose his pitching arm than attempt - he has a _catcher_ now.

A strong, steady gaze paired with a voice like sunset steel, unrelenting and altogether charismatic. 

Dark unkempt hair that's almost as wild as his. 

Solid warm that settles just beneath his diaphragm after an instantaneous praise wells up within him - _amazing_ , he thinks, effortless - and for now, it's enough.

(Amazing, he'll realize much later, doesn't even cover half of what this miraculous meeting of players will become.)

 

* * *

 

They're all nice to him, at Nishiura. 

It makes him anxious.

Don't get too comfortable, the dark presence in a hidden corner of his heart advises, and he listens.  Shrinks back, away from the huddle of boys with sunrise laughter and lighthearted banter.  It's easier this way.  Better in the shadow of players who deserve uniform jerseys, who deserve their numbers. 

Better without him.

Don't get too attached, the mean little monster in the back of his mind's rational side warns, and he listens.  Tucks away under the covers and stows away in the back of the bus because it's for the best.  Hides his possessive side away because it has no place here, with these team players who share everything with each other. 

Unlike him.

Don't get your hopes up, the pessimist within tells his more optimistic persona, but he really can't help it.  Despite all that's happened and what shaped him into the mess of emotions he is now.  Despite all his best judgement and how conscious his teammates never imagined he could become.  He wants acceptance, that feeling of belonging; he wants to be needed, wants to be indispensable to the team.

Waste not, want not.  So the old saying goes. 

But Ren takes one look behind him, at the bases loaded and his teammates in the outfield and - he wants. 

He wants to be a part of this, always dreamed of being a part of this.  He wants to be a pitcher who belongs here.

Ren turns back to the infield, back to the batter's plate - where his fastballs and curveballs and sinkers all end up - at Abe-kun's dark eyes bright behind the protective mask and the older boy's mitt unmoving, waiting, for his pitch. 

And he thinks. 

He wants. 

He wants this, this catcher, to remain there for as long as he has the mound.

He wants Abe-kun's attention, quietly standing by and fussing over him, ensuring he takes care of himself so Ren can do the same for him. 

He wants Abe-kun's kindness, rare and fleeting as it is, patiently rustling his messy hair and smoother than he expects against the calluses on his fingertips. 

He wants - to be called, commanded, and ruled over - to be acknowledged by his catcher above all else. 

On the field and off.

(Ren shuts his eyes - a brief reverie, if only to capture the faint smile on Abe-kun's face as he gives his pitcher the sign - and opens them to wind up and send the ball sailing home.)

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Ren thinks too much.

It's his complexes, his insecurities.  Isn't it?  It's just that, of course.  The old habits are always hardest to break. 

The overactive tear ducts and the racing pulses and the constant need for reassurance - he doesn't like those aspects of himself at all.

Ren keeps them close, though. 

Uses them as weapons, as defenses, when the flight or flight instinct arises.  Unconscious yet conscious.  Constant stuttering and awkward gesticulating; he has the words, waiting on neural impulses that refuse to spark and reload, but they never come.

Over-thinking things isn't the only problem, though.

The problem is.  He doesn't know quite where the problem lies.  Is it him?  Isn't it always?  Ren can never be too sure anymore.  He reaches out a bit more, makes the effort, but each attempt ends as quickly as progress is made. 

Two steps forward-- and then, hesitation.  Reluctance.  The fear, the same fear every time.  _What if_ s and eventual _goodbye_ s.

He's afraid, too often, of the unspoken sentiment behind what Abe-kun says rather than the words themselves.

(Ren thinks of Tajima-kun, Izumi-kun, and Hama-chan, of classmates and teammates and everything blending together into lunch breaks well spent and chatting over shared snacks and box lunches like they're all old friends, like they could stay that way forever, and he lets the fulfillment and the growing ease settle in.  Lets the urge to run fade in favor of the urge to remain seated for a bit, among such common company. 

Lets the momentary wish, selfish as it is, to want Abe-kun here sitting beside him too, linger past the recesses of his mind a bit longer.)

He's afraid, incurably so, when he tries to imagine what will become of them three years from now.

(Ren thinks of all his teammates, of Tajima-kun and Hanai-kun and Izumi-kun and Nishihiro-kun and Suyama-kun and Sakaeguchi-kun and Mizutani-kun and Oki-kun, how they work so hard to better themselves at bat and their base runs and their handling; he thinks of Momokan and Shiga-sensei and Shinooka-chan, in the dugout and behind tables and protective glass and folders upon folders of information; he thinks of the cheering squad Hama-chan gathered for Nishiura, their kindness and their endless support and their hoarse voices as a rising chorus - he tries to imagine it, an existence without any of them.  And it hurts. 

Though it doesn't hurt as much as the image of Abe-kun at the graduation ceremony, leaving his uniform and his team number behind - leaving his pitcher behind.)

He's afraid, more than he should be, by giving up these happy days, the memories made.  Afraid of his time at Nishiura slowly becoming a dream once he leaves high school.  Afraid of leaving.

(Ren thinks of Haruna-san, the kind of pitcher he wants to emulate in every way - except he remembers Abe-kun's eyes, the look when he tells him that _pitchers are_ _selfish_ and he thinks he can understand.

The loneliness, the desperate silent plea for affirmation, the palpable desire on one's tongue to confess.  Appreciating, in spite of his actions. 

Adoring, in spite of his all-consuming history.) 

Ren is afraid, scared by his own neuroses and histrionics and unfailing determination when it comes to the game, by the chill that seizes his nerves when he pictures the end of high school baseball, the end of high school, the end of his time as a part of this confused battery arrangement - wonders if it's truly the end of one chapter or the beginning of a new one in his story.

Ren is afraid, scared by the sudden cold lurch paired with happy fizzing fireworks in his stomach when Abe-kun praises him for listening well, smiles at him when he thinks the younger boy isn't looking, hesitates whenever shoulders and elbows brush or whenever Ren is bold enough to twine their fingers together - asks questions through his gaze and darkening cheeks but never protests.

(He pretends not to notice, prefers to let them think he doesn't think - because it's easier, mostly, but also because the depth of his feelings scares him so much that the words never come out right.)

 

* * *

 

He asks Tajima-kun first, starts with the easiest and most natural choice. 

"You can't be subtle," are the first words out of Tajima-kun's mouth, curled into that eternal grin - like he knows all the secrets of the world are his to keep.  "Say it outright and be honest!"  A firm clap to his shoulders is the last thing Ren registers before Tajima-kun pushes him out of the homeroom entryway.  "If you freeze up, Mihashi, just think...third base runner!"

Sakaeguchi-kun and Suyama-kun gave similar advice. 

"You won't get rejected," was Sakaeguchi-kun's kind and ever-wise reassurance, "if you show how earnest your feelings are."  Ren takes this remark to heart, hoping he's right, and takes Suyama-kun's suggestion to rehearse what he wants to say in front of a mirror as well. 

It helps, somewhat, but he doesn't feel any less terrified by the prospect of rejection - and, in the end, pushes his deadline back a couple of days to ask around a bit more.

Oki-kun and Nishihiro-kun are a bit more shocked by the _how long_ more than they are over their pitcher being...well, the _pitcher_ in this situation.  "If it means anything at all," Oki-kun offers, shortly after they recover from the startling new revelation, "I think you've got a good shot if you talk to him on your way back home from practice.  Right before you're about to part ways on the road home seems like the best time to tell him."

Ren isn't sure whether or not to tell Oki-kun and Nishihiro-kun that Abe-kun walks home with him once a week, their friendship having deepened to such a point, and it's the fact that he looks forward to that more than anything else that keeps him from saying so.  It isn't bragging if you proudly keep it to yourself, after all.

Mizutani-kun and Izumi-kun glance at one another throughout Ren's slow, prompted retelling of the story.  Their synchronized response is immediate, almost eerie: "What are you still doing here, then?" 

Ren isn't sure whether to cry or...cry.  He settles for a small laugh and a genuine _thank you_ before he leaves the dugout to join the others for practice. 

Right before he leaves for the locker rooms, though, Hama-chan finds him and asks about what he talked about with Izumi-kun. 

When Ren does a great impression of a guppy trying to fit its mouth around a baseball, Hama-chan lets out one of his barking laughs and apologizes for scaring his childhood friend.  He proffers some very helpful advice in his own right: "Don't think of it as turning friendship into something deeper.  Think of it as an extension of friendship.  Friendship's a form of love too, y'know."

Ren stays back to think about that for a bit, though not before thanking Hama-chan and letting the cheer squad leader pass by to head into the locker rooms himself.

It makes so much more sense when Hama-chan says it. 

People can love objects, love places, love ideas and concepts and intangible things. 

People can also love other people in a multitude of ways, to different extents. 

Different forms of love.  Love for a friend.  Love for family.  Love for those who teach and love for those who need to be taught.

(Ren thinks about Hama-chan's words for a good minute, hovering on the edge of another realization, and adjusts the brim of his cap as he tucks the thought away for later.)

 

* * *

 

It's the slowest bike ride home Ren can ever recall.

He tries, desperate, to count back the months and days since he's used this path to and from school.  How many hours, minutes, and seconds pass by like this without his conscious recollection?  How many more hours, minutes, and seconds are there left in the year? 

Around him, the winter air sweeps past his nose turning pink, trying to dip into the folds of his sweater, his jacket, and gloves wrapped tight around handlebars. 

He breathes into the open air, letting the condensing heat strike the chilly atmosphere, watches it float, fly up, and disappear. 

Abe-kun slows his pedaling to match Ren's pace and comments on how cold it's gotten so early into the season.  Small talk.  Ren nods and makes a noise along with the action in case Abe-kun doesn't see it in the cloud-shrouded daylight fading. 

But he does, like always, and returns to the mostly one-sided conversation. 

It reminds them both - Abe-kun asked Ren about what was on his mind earlier to no avail.  Ren wants to tell him now, but the wind is in their faces and his heart's pounding in his ears for more reasons than the weather's effect on their means of travel.  So no, not yet, he thinks. 

Better to wait, even if he's waited long enough. 

When they finally reach the Mihashi household, there's no relief for him like Ren hopes when Abe-kun walks him to his doorstep, offering the usual _take care_ s and  _goodnight_ s like usual. 

But when they exchange timid waves and sheepish half-smiles, just before Abe-kun crosses the fenced-in front yard, he's surprised by how surprised Abe-kun looks when he turns to the sound of his name.

He looks surprised, too, when Ren hops down to meet him at the foot of the steps, bewildered by the wringing hands and fidgeting blond in front of him.  Surprised but expectant. 

 _He's waiting_ , Ren realizes over the din of his frantic misgivings, _for me_.

Waiting, Ren decides after a delay that frustrates him to no end and makes the aggravation evident on Abe-kun's countenance, is overrated.

So he digs his heels into the stone steps (the same way he does on the mound, right before he winds up to pitch), holds Abe-kun's collar tight (the same way he does with a ball, poised to send it flying, knuckles aching because he's holding onto it, that feeling, so tight it almost hurts) with both hands as he pulls the older boy forward, and lets their lips brush, ever so gently, with his eyes slammed shut until he feels Abe-kun's warm, warm hands come to rest on his waist.

Kissing him back.  Pulling him closer.  Drawing light semblances of words - no, a single set of characters that, even distracted, Ren knows all too well - along the trembling slope of his spine. 

The heat that presses their mouths back together again as soon as Abe-kun retreats for air, connecting them, tongue to cheek to neck. 

The low cadence of Abe-kun's reply, muted peals of laughter against the cleft of his shoulder, joined by a higher tenor. 

The epiphany, suddenly, that Hama-chan's words were right.  

Nothing and yet everything changed, Ren realizes with a giddy smile, when _I love you_ leads to _I love you too_ between friends turned lovers.  Abe-kun wouldn't stop being his catcher and Ren couldn't imagine not being his pitcher. 

(Something beyond the horizon, glimmering sunset giving way to nightfall, and Ren hears in the back of his mind a little voice reminding him that this could be the start of a new chapter as well.)

 

* * *

 

"So," Tajima-kun beams, emanating glee from the ends of his waggling fingers to the tiny expanse of his freckles, when Ren appears at the school gates to meet him with Abe-kun's hand in his, "when's the wedding?  When and where's the honeymoon gonna be?  Oh, oh, and can Hanai and I be your best men, _please_ \--?"

Abe-kun tosses his schoolbag at Tajima-kun, misses completely, and hits Hanai-kun square in the face. 

Ren, torn between being scandalized and bursting out into raucous laughter with Tajima-kun, apologizes to their captain and holds Abe-kun's hand tighter. 

They have the next two high school baseball seasons, he tells Tajima-kun later, before they worry about other things beyond college. 

"Like what," Tajima-kun asks. "Like...going to college together?  Living together?"  Then, an impish smirk, "Like, _doing_ stuff together...?"

Ren keeps a flustered smile on his face as he shakes his head in reply, never confirming or denying any of his friend's claims.  Maybe it's a bit selfish, but he wants to keep a little bit of happiness for himself, to himself.

He'll hold it tight, in a little corner of his heart - where he keeps hope alight and keeps away any semblance of doubt - and the thought alone makes something like falling in love that much easier. 

 


End file.
